


To The Victor Go The Spoils

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Bargaining, Blood, Church Sex, Churches & Cathedrals, Deal with a Devil, Destiny, Fate, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Magic, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neck Kissing, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Death is kind enough to make a bargain. All it takes is letting him win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Victor Go The Spoils

Ichabod kept his eyes closed and head bowed, waiting.

The sound of boots on the hardwood floors of the church alerted him to the horseman’s approach, but still he waited. As the footsteps stopped and the silence dragged on, a flicker of despair began to cut through the carefully constructed mask of bravery the young man had maintained thus far; what was the damn fellow waiting for? 

“Well, then. How do I look?”

Snapping his head up, Ichabod glanced up at the owner of the drawling, smokey voice. His gaze fell upon a tall, lean man, not much older than himself; he had black, slightly curled hair that came to just above his ears, contrasting starkly with his almost translucent skin. Perhaps the most striking feature were his eyes, the lightest of blues that seemed to reflect when the light hit them just so. Ichabod felt a cold shiver go up his spine. “I expected something a bit less...”

“Human?” the horseman filled in, shifting his weight to one leg and giving Ichabod a languid smile. “Mister Crane, death has many forms. I think this one will help me blend in a bit more than a walking corpse, don’t you agree?”

He looked back down to the floor as the chill spread across his body, making his hands shake. “But Abby will be safe,” Ichabod said as he clenched his hands into fists. She would be angry when they found his dead body, and when she found the note in his pocket explaining his actions... but she would be safe, and all it took was giving Death back his skull. If she was safe, maybe she could at least find some way to save the world. “You promised.”

“Yes, yes. I will make sure Miss Mills lives a long, human life. She will die a peaceful, natural death. I can be cruel, but make no mistake, I do not deceive.”

Ichabod let out a slow breath and eyed the bow-shaped scar on Death’s hand, and the still bleeding cut just above it. The matching slash on Ichabod’s wrist was testament to the magic worked between them in the darkness; perhaps Death could break such an oath, but a single shred of hope was better than none. “Let’s get this over with, then. I’m sure you’re eager for your revenge.”

“It crossed my mind.” Death paused and slipped his modern rifle over his shoulder, slowly closing the gap between them until only a few inches remained. “Though it seems a shame to end your participation in this game so soon.”

“But...” Trailing off, he met the horseman’s eyes. He was so close, Ichabod could make out flecks of sapphire in those crystalline depths. There was an ancient, endless look to them, despite the youth of the body, and a gentleness there that belied the vicious nature Ichabod knew Death possessed. Temporarily disarmed, Ichabod swallowed before continuing. “But you’ve wanted me dead.”

A sardonic smile tugged at Death’s mouth. “In case you’ve not noticed, Mister Crane, what befalls one of us has an unfortunate tendency to befall the other.” 

“We’re linked,” Ichabod murmured. He remembered what Katrina had said in his dream, and the spell she had cast to take them down together. “Bound by blood.”

“Complicated, isn’t it?” He stroked his chin, tilting his head as if in thought; the smile, turning into a smirk, said he already knew exactly what he was doing. “To make sure both witnesses continue on together, as they are meant to... I could arrange it, if that would be preferable to an untimely demise.”

“Won’t that ruin your plans for world domination?”

Death arched one eyebrow. “I think you misunderstand my purpose, but no matter-- most humans do. You’ll figure it all out in due time.” He rested a hand on either side of Ichabod, caging the human in. “If you live, of course.”

Their lips were almost touching; Ichabod felt horror, confusion and intrigue mix into a bittersweet drink. He knew what he was going to be agreeing to, yet all he could see was the absent way Abby had rubbed her wrists when she spoke of her sister, the ridicule they had faced, and how her sister had been in and out of hospitals since then. The thin, light scars hidden under long sleeves suggested that Abby had already lost too much to the evil encroaching on Sleepy Hollow. He wasn't going to abandon her, not if he could help it. “Name the price.”

“I’ll make it simple, since it’s been a long two hundred and fifty years for us both.” One arm slipped downwards. Death curled tightly around Ichabod’s waist, pulling their bodies together. “Compared to restoring a horseman to power, it won’t seem like anything at all.”

Ichabod closed his eyes. The other man smelled like old leather, warm copper and fresh earth, with just a trace of gunpowder beneath it. It was familiar, so unlike the scents of this new city, and the touch stirred a delicious heat that he had long missed; he felt his body relax into that iron grip, a shiver of a different kind moving through him as their hips met. “Deal.”

Death’s chuckled. “So be it.”

His breath trailed along Ichabod’s neck, lips like ice as they pressed against the skin just above Ichabod’s pulse. A soft whimper escaped his throat, morphing into a soundless cry as teeth and fingernails dug into his flesh.The lit candles on the church altar blurred together through tears of humiliation, pain and, soon after his clothes slipped from his body, pleasure; for a moment, the lights looked like how Ichabod imagined the flames of Hell. The lights guttered out as they sank to the floor, with Ichabod finding himself pinned beneath Death. A flash of defiance rose in Ichabod’s chest, but Death had his power, and as he kissed Ichabod hard on the mouth, he soon had Ichabod writhing under him in submission; the battle was already over.

Seeming to hear those thoughts as he claimed the human, Death purred one little word into Ichabod’s ear:

“Mine.”


End file.
